Myra might often spend her nights at the pubs peppered around town, but she spent her days trying to grow what little money her parents gave her. And she’d be damned, actually damned this time, if she let herself grovel back at their feet for more money.

She was brewing something extra special when the front door opened, chiming the bell above. Myra looked up with a smile, getting as far as “Hello, welc– come…” before she stood up straighter.

Dacien smiled as the door shut behind him, keeping the cold out. “Hello Myra. I thought I'd come visit where you work.”

Myra gritted her teeth. She crossed one arm across her body and put her attention back on stirring. “How lovely.”

“Did you know you're the only woman that I know of who owns her own business? I suppose that's impressive. But why do you do it?” He walked over to a few dark wooden shelves stocked with bags of herbs and dried flowers, at least, that's what Dacien thought was inside.

The shop was small, only enough space on the floor for 4 people to comfortably browse. The sill of the chequered window was decorated with plants, flowering many shades of pink and puprle. 

There were a few books dotted on top of the display cabinets, their spines colourful and boasting calligraphic writing that Dacien couldn't quite make out. 

Behind the desk that spanned the width of the back wall, the desk of which Myra stood behind, were floral and plant themed tea sets and pots. A few of them had weird little animals, some bugs, some amphibians and some creatures Dacien didn't think were real. But that was pretty expected in a witch's shop.

“Do you own anything?” Myra asked defiantly.

“My home.”

“Why?” She queried, though it was obvious she knew the answer. She was trying to make a point.

Still, Dacien laughed. “Because I need a place to live? And I can.”

“There we go. I do what I do because I can. Are you looking to buy something?” 

“Oh no, I don't want any potions.” Dacien vigorously shook his head and his hands, his eyes wide as if he'd been asked to commit a crime.

It was Myra’s turn to let a little laugh escape. “You seriously think I sell potions? Do you believe I'm a lost soul too? That I'll trap you in with the devil if you take a hallucinogenic from me?”

“I uh,” He tried to read Myra’s face before continuing. He swallowed, carefully choosing his words, “of course not. Hah, who would!”

But Myra couldn't be fooled. “Well, that makes you the first, thank you. Come sit, let's drink together.” She took a seat at the lower level of her desk, gestured to the purple upholstered stool on Dacien's side.

Somehow, his eyes grew even wider. After a long pause and a quick glance to the front door, Dacien nervously took a seat. He tucked his hands in between his thighs and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. He carefully followed every move Myra made as she poured a blue, steaming liquid from one of her fancy pots.

She scooted a small tea cup over to Dacien. The sides were painted with some of those nonexistent creatures, as blue as berries, that seemed to dance around the cup. Although they looked more cute than scary, Dacien couldn't help the hairs on his neck from rising as his mind replayed old artworks of dancing demons spinning around houses and fires. Little agents of mischief and destruction, the kind of demons that wouldn’t kill you, instead would royally fuck your life up.

“Be careful, it's still quite hot.” Myra said with a smile, a very off-putting smile. 

“Are you having a cup too?” Dacien asked with a slight tremble to his voice. If his friends knew how hard he was trying to finally woo the one woman who couldn't be wooed – well, they'd probably call him an idiot.

“Oh don't worry, of course I am.” She picked her own cup up to warm her hands. She still didn't take her dark eyes off of Dacien. 

He swallowed again, this time definitely a loud gulp. He’d put it off for as long as he could, so he extended a lightly shaking hand, wrapped his fingers around the delicate handle of the cup. He tried once more to read Myra’s smile but finally bit the arrow-head and took the tiniest sip.

His heart was already beating hard but the thudding in his chest picked up the second he registered the mumbled laughs Myra was making. Dacien threw the cup down and shot to his feet, never noticing the blue puddle spilling over the worktop.

“What is that?” He demanded, alarmed.

Myra’s laughter picked up to an amused giggle. “My dear, you’re now under my spell!” She cried but couldn’t keep a straight mouth. Seeing the horrified look on Dacien’s face surely didn’t help.

“What did you do?” He hissed, barely a whisper, almost unable to speak.

Myra laughed some more, sipped her own drink, and tried to compose herself. Not a single one of those actions helped Dacien’s racing mind. “What did you do to me?!” He raised his voice, the hands spread out in front of him trembling.

“Quiet down, I’m sorry!” Myra held her hands up in surrender and peace, reeling in even more laughter. “I can’t believe you believed that! It’s just tea.”

Just tea?! Dacien’s mind yelled but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He couldn't move. 

Myra grabbed a small tea towel and swiftly sponged the puddle up. “Come look.” She stood and pulled up a section of the desk, allowing Dacien access to the back.

There was a long gap filled with silence. Then, Dacien hesitantly walked through.

“These are my floral teas. Hibiscus, Linden, and the one I gave you is butterfly pea. I do many more, Green teas, black teas, the whole song and dance. I promise I didn’t poison or drug you.”

Dacien took his time to look and think, eyes soaking in the different coloured petals and leaves in the display jars. They were all colourful and beautifully packaged, Myra had a theme she stuck well to. If Dacien was being honest, upon second glance, the shop really was no place to fear.

Actually, it was very enticing. 

“You’re just a tea maker?” He finally said, turning his head in Myra’s direction.

“Just?” She raised her brows but wore a grin. “Indeed. I already told you, I don’t sell potions. Just teas, juices, and drinkware.”

Dacien hummed, took another look at the teas and pots of the shop. Nothing to fear.

He was hesitant, but he still had a mission to complete, so he cleared his throat and took a breath. “Let me take you somewhere.” He smiled, albeit diminutive.

Myra crossed her arms. “I already said this to you before as well: No.”